Fight or Flight
by MissFantabulous
Summary: You've had plenty of harsh words directed at you in your day – from old college buddies, from Terri, from your students – but none make you feel as though you've been punched in the gut as Emma's do…and none are truer than what she's saying right now.


**A/N: **Hey, all! I'm super, super sorry to anyone who's waiting on me to update Brand New. Aside from the lack of inspiration, life's been super hectic and I haven't exactly had the time to sit down and write anything other than research papers and essays...until now! :)

Forgive any typos/grammar errors, those are all mine as I work sans beta.

I don't really think this will happen, but hey I predicted the drunk-dialing thing so who knows? :B

* * *

"Are you dating her?"

The question comes at you like a freight train, its nature feeling nothing short of accusatory. You turn to face her, a bit baffled.

"I'm sorry?"

Her lips are pressed together in a tight line, her arms folded defensively across her chest, the posture instantly sending you back to a time over a year ago where she'd publicly berated you amongst your colleagues, and suddenly you're very glad the teacher's lounge is empty this time around.

"Are you dating Holly?"

You blink at her a few times, your brow still furrowed in mild confusion. "I am, yes."

She lets out a tiny scoff and rolls her eyes at you. "Great, that's just great."

"Emma, I," you fumble, shaking your head, still not comprehending. "What's going on?"

Your question seems to have sobered her, as her arms quickly drop down to her sides, her expression morphing into one of thorough embarrassment. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

You try desperately to catch her gaze, but her eyes are darting all over – at the coffee pot behind you, the clock mounted on the wall just above your head, the door on the other side of the room – everywhere except you.

"Oh God, what am I doing?" she mutters as her hand shoots up to cover her mouth, her eyes – you notice, in horror – welling up with tears.

She turns, the click-clacking of her Mary Janes pronouncing her departure, bringing you out of your stupor and into action.

"Emma! Em, wait—"

You get to her in three long strides, your hand reaching out of its own volition to tug her by the elbow towards you. Her eyes are fixated on the speckled linoleum tile between her feet, but you know she's biting her lip and that a few renegade tears have escaped the confines of her eyes.

"Emma, talk to me," you say softly. "What's going on?"

She shakes her head, the curtain of auburn hair veiling her face moving along with it. "Let me go, Will."

You loosen your grip on her elbow, but don't release her, as you dip your head down and try to meet her eyes. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

She finally looks up at you, the glare in her eyes present once again, and tugs her arm away.

"I don't have to tell you anything."

You've had plenty of harsh words directed at you in your day – from old college buddies, from your parents, from Terri, from your students, even – but none make you feel as though you've been punched in the gut as Emma's do…and none, you suddenly realize, are truer than hers.

You take a step back, sighing. "You're right."

"What?" she asks, her eyes narrowed.

"You're right. You don't have to tell me anything," you say with a shrug, one hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. "You don't owe me anythi—"

"I'm just so tired of this, Will."

You blink a few times, unsure of what to say.

"Tired of what?"

"This," she motions vaguely at the space between them. "Us."

"You're tired of…us?"

She closes her eyes tightly, shaking her head. "That's not what I mean. I just… I don't know…"

"Emma I don't," you pause, trying to find something to say. Jeez, when did it get so hard to talk to her? "I don't understand."

She doesn't say anything, her eyes glued to her wringing hands. You don't exactly know what's going on, but she's your friend, she's Emma, and you want to help.

You place your hand on her shoulder and her brown eyes meet yours, and suddenly you know. You know exactly where she's been trying to go with this conversation.

"Emma, I…" you say slowly, your eyes wide with realization, as you take another step away from her. The words she'd uttered on that fateful first date speed through your head on repeat: _Too much, too fast. Too much, too fast, _and you feel the overwhelming urge to leave.

You shake your head, still backing away from her, feeling your eyes sheen over with tears.

"Will, please," she says softly, her voice trembling just as much as your hands are. "Just listen."

Your head shakes again, this time more violently, and you stick out your hand, hoping the barrier will stop her from approaching, from continuing.

"Will, I don't know what I'm doing," she states, her voice cracking.

"Then don't." You almost flinch at how harsh your voice sounds. "Don't do whatever you're about to do, don't say it."

You shut your eyes tightly, silently willing her to disappear. When you open your eyes, she's still standing there, her hand muffling the sobs wracking her body, and it's all you can do to resist reaching out and pulling her into your arms.

"You don't get to do this to me," you mutter, with a bitterness you weren't aware you still had. "You don't get to do this!"

She jumps slightly at your exclamation but takes a cautious step towards you.

"I know," she nods through her tears. "I know I've put you through so much, and I'm sorry, Will. I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry."

You don't say anything, so she takes that as a cue to continue.

"It's easier," she says slowly, nervously, "being with him, with Carl."

You shake your head disbelievingly, not wanting to hear this. "Really, Emma, spare me the details of—"

"But what I've realized," she interjects boldly, taking another step towards you, "is maybe 'easier' isn't what I need."

You aren't sure how to respond, and you pretty certain that even if you did, you wouldn't be able to because of the growing lump in your throat, so you close your eyes because the way she's looking at you right now isn't exactly helping your cause.

"Things are really confusing for me right now, Will," she says in a voice just above a whisper, and you know she's right in front of you, even with your eyes closed.

"And I'm trying so hard to figure out all these feelings I have for Carl," she pauses, ignoring your flinch at the mention of his name, her hand tentatively reaching out to grab yours, "and for you."

Your eyes open and meet hers once more and suddenly Holly's words from a few weeks back make a lot of sense.

"_Seeing another woman with the hots for you…"_

Emma's eyes are searching yours for an answer, for anything really, but all you can do is stare at her blankly. You take a step back, shaking your head for what you're sure is the hundredth time since you first stepped into the room, and pull your hand away from hers, trying vainly to ignore the hurt that flashes across her face.

"Will, please—"

"No," you say firmly, internally cursing whatever fates existed for their poor timing. "I've spent so much time…so much time trying to fix myself…"

You watch as she looks away, guilt flooding her features, and you feel the need to placate that.

"I know I was the one who messed up what we had, and that's why we didn't work out," you say quietly. "But when you started dating Carl, when you _married _Carl," you glance up at her, swallowing back the lump in your throat. "You broke me.

"It's taken me so long to move on, to allow myself to feel happy," you pause before finally admitting, "to not feel like I'm suffocating when I'm near you."

She looks at you, pity and frustration and something else etched onto her face. You can tell she's at a loss, but you're glad because there's more.

"You can't just expect me to be that guy that comes between you and your… Carl."

You can tell she's biting back a retort about how you once never had a problem being that guy, but you continue before her tongue slips.

"I won't be that guy, Em."

The use of her nickname has cleared a bit of the tension, and it's evident that she's noticed, too.

She shakes her head. "I'm not asking you to be."

"Then what are you asking?"

Her eyes widen and her mouth opens and closes, but no words escape.

"What do you want, Emma?"

And just like that, the tension's back.

Her face steels and she bites down on her lip nervously. "I—I don't, I don't know." You look down at her, fighting the temptation to lift her chin to meet your gaze.

"You came here for a reason, Em. What do you want?"

Her arms are folded across her chest once more, and you're back to square one.

"I told you, I don't know." Her body is starting to tremble again, and you take a reluctant step towards her, physically the closest you've been to each other since the Rocky Horror debacle.

"Yes you do," you say with a nod. "What do you want?"

"Will, I just… I don't know," she says, taking a step back.

"Emma, please—"

"Would you just drop it?" she questions, her voice raised.

"Why can't you tell me what it is that you want?"

"Will, I don't—"

You shut your eyes, feeling the frustration course through your veins. "Emma—"

"You!"

You stop, not sure if you just imagined that one syllable that still hangs in the air around you.

"W-what?"

"I want you, Will," she says softly, almost pleadingly, meeting your gaze. "I want to be with you."

You don't say anything, allowing the words to sink in before you feel your whole body flood with a warmth that you're certain is radiating out of your pores, and you don't even bother trying to fight the upward tug of your lips.

She blinks at you a few times before shyly looking away. "Things were easier with Carl, a lot simpler, but they were never right."

You nod, trying – for her sake – to hold back your grin.

"He's really a wonderful man and there's still a lot of things to figure out," she rants quietly, "but the one thing I realized is that you can't fully give yourself to someone when you're in love with another."

With those words, her eyes life to meet yours and you feel your heart swell.

"Emma…" There are so many things you want to tell her, so many things you need to tell her, but at the moment your tongue feels too large for your mouth.

Instead, you take a single step forward and pull her into your arms, holding your breath until you feel her slender arms wrap around your waist.

You feel her lips curl up into a smile against your chest, and you place a tender kiss to the top of her head.

"So where do we go from here?" you question nervously when you mutually pull away.

She reaches up, fiddling with the knot of your tie. "How about we take some time to get our baggage in order, and then we'll take it day by day?"

You smile down at her, another bout of déjà vu taking over your senses, but in contrast to the last time she uttered similar words to you, you feel hopeful rather than upset.

"I promise no makeout sessions with glee coaches or sleepovers with April Rhodes this time," you joke with a wry smile, earning an eye roll and a smirk from Emma.

You reach out, finally giving in to the urge to place your hand on her cheek, doing your best to dry the soft, dampened skin with your thumb. You feel your breath catch in your throat as she smiles up at you and you exhale slowly.

"You sure you won't give up on me?"

She's beaming at you now, her eyes gleaming, as she shakes her head vigorously.

"Some things are worth fighting for, Will."


End file.
